Retribution
by PenShips
Summary: Fifteen years after the incidence, Hermione receives a letter. It's from him. "Once upon a time, she had trusted him with her life and yet now, in his presence, she was constantly and discretely trying to feel for her wand." Ron wants a visit. Sequel to Forbidden Love.


_**I wrote 'Forbidden Love' (and yes, it is necessary to read it in order to get what is going on here) when I was quite young-I shudder with shame and disgust upon reading it and would give my 14 year old self a good sound thrashing (isn't that great word?) for such works of art but it is still a work from my brain and proof that the last three years weren't exactly a waste of time-considering how appalling I find my writing. I mean, come on-who in real life explodes like that without good reason? When writing it should be nice to add dimensions to all characters so it makes more of a believable story. Otherwise my story will be flat and play out like a fantasy (in which everyone does wrong and is bad unless they side with the main character).**_

_**So as 'retribution' (hahaha **__** see what I did there?) for my bashing of that friendly, down to Earth, red-headed boy (and you **__**must**__** believe me, I do have a fondness for Ron!), hhheeeeeeerrrreeeee's sttttooorrryyy:**_

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The sky was grey and heavy, sinking down into the countryside as she glanced out the window. Supposedly, it was typical English weather which Hermione Granger knew was incorrect because over the past few days it had been reasonably warm and sunny. However now, her garden was shrouded in darkness, mainly attributed to the lack of sun. Humour crept into her dark mood; still, after all these years she couldn't get over how much literature was embedded in her life and how it always seem to be related to real life somehow. After all she had been reading the muggle book, The Woman in Black where it could be analysed that the weather was synonymous with the ghost's emotions.

Any thoughts on books were dashed when a figure apparated into her garden. Her breath hitched. Red hair. Lanky build. It was him. She knew he would come and she had let him come because he was Ron Weasley. He had been her friend, her lover and her fiancée. Ron was prone to outbursts of anger and jealous fits but she knew in her heart that he was not a killer and quite frankly she was done hating him. She was done crying herself to sleep over what he did. Hermione knew she was far from ever forgiving him but she was still prepared to talk to him. To hear his side of the story.

As he approached, she could see that Azkaban had worn him down. Under his eyes were dark and sunken, his skin was waxy, sickly and hung off his bones, his once silky and soft red hair now hung limp from his scalp, greasy with dirt and sweat. He was a walking skeleton. On closer inspection, she could see that the freckles that once graced his face were gone and the whites of his eyes were yellowed and bloodshot. Ron could do her no harm because his wand had been snapped and he looked as though she could push him over with the tip of her finger. He had not come here to finish the job.

Opening the backdoor, she got a whiff of his scent and had to fight off an urge to gag with the overwhelming stink violating her nostrils. He hovered in the doorway, massaging the inside of his wrist and rubbing circles on his skin with his thumb. His two hands were littered with crescent shaped cuts, some had healed, others looked fresh like he had inflicted them when he was walking towards her but most seemed infected. He shifted, obviously uncomfortable with her scrutiny of him.

'Come in,' she tried to smile but only managed a grimace.

His eyes instantly filled with tears and he let out a breath of air he had been holding. 'Thank you,' he whispered; his voice raspy and sounded hoarse like he had screaming since the last time she had seen him.

She was struck with the sudden weight of his presence. This was her son's killer. A son who did not even get a chance at life or managed to take a breath of oxygen. Yet, looking at him as he wandered into her kitchen and slowly made his way to the small round breakfast table and pull out a seat, she felt neither anger nor hatred but rather disgust and pity. He slumped into the chair and placed his hands on the table, lacing them together. It was then Hermione took in how really defeated and dejected he looked.

She twiddled with her thumbs, unsure of how to proceed from here. Tears pricked her eyes, this was her friend. _Her friend_. Once upon a time, she had trusted him with her life and yet now, in his presence, she was constantly and discretely trying to feel for her wand. It gave her an upper hand on Ron and she hated herself for thinking about him like a murderer. She felt like the Gods were mocking her as she now couldn't stand to feel safe in the company of someone she'd once called friend and wanted to get back to a husband that she'd once called enemy.

'You're looking well,' he said, shifting uncomfortably. Ron glanced in her direction, catching her eyes before flinching like she'd burnt him and then quickly looked away, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

'Thank you,' Hermione replied and did not venture to say anything else. Anything polite that came out of her mouth regarding him would feel false.

Silence had never been so deafening and the more the seconds ticked by, the onslaught of emotions and memories keep on coming but she refused to ask him for an apology or an explanation. If he wanted to tell her, he could do so and she would never grovel at his feet for anything, let alone something that he _owed_ her. Moving to the table, she sat as far away from him as she could and copied his body language, bringing her hands onto the table and lacing them.

'Hermione,' Ron started but was unable to finish when Hermione flew into a rage.

'How dare you?' she growled. 'You have no right to call me by that name. None!'

He nodded and licked his dry, cracked lips. 'Right,' he whispered to himself. 'Right.'

The silence returned. It was so strange that Hermione found her table top so interesting, she'd never noticed that different colours of brown that was swirled into it. She remembered the amount of coaxing she had to do into order to buy the table, she'd found it at a muggle flea market and Draco had been adamant about buying only expensive things for their little cottage home but she'd pleaded and begged and even did a few things in the bedroom she knew Draco enjoyed and when he'd reject all of her tactics, she simply went out and bought it. How he'd laughed until he cried when he came home from his job at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and found her calmly sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

'I'm sorry,' Ron suddenly said as though he'd been building up to this magnificent moment and as she raised her head to look at his crestfallen face, she could see that the moment he had hoped for was not the moment he'd gotten. 'No,' he backtracked, tears forming in his eyes. 'Sorry's not the right word. I just...you know, mom and dad didn't even come to see me after I got out? I'm living in an apartment that I'm sure I'll be kicked out of in the next few days or so. You know, I went to the store today and George...he treated me like a stranger, like I was a nobody off the streets.'

It was in the moment that Hermione saw red, she shot out of her chair with her wand pointed at him, lips curled into a snarl. He didn't even try to make a proper apology. 'How dare you? You bring your sorry and pity into my home! How _dare_ you? How can you? Because you may have lost your family but I lost my ability to have one!' she screeched, wishing that she could bring down the ceiling with her voice and it wasn't for the lack of trying. 'That's right! You cost me my happiness, my ability to carry another child in my womb and even _have _children because your _sectumsempra_...because of your selfish, idiotic ways. So don't you_ dare, ever_ try to bring your pity around me because I promise you this, I will not hesitate to hex you. You bastard, you cost me my...children.'

Despite the fact that she felt a great weight lifted from her shoulders, Hermione was weakened and fell to the floor, dropping her wand and allowing it to roll away. She held her head in her hands and wept. It felt like she was releasing pain she'd kept locked away inside her and each tear was liberating because she'd finally managed to tell someone about her predicament. Draco didn't know but he had suspected after she'd broken down when Lucius argued with her to create another child but after he died, they stopped trying and she had a feeling that Draco knew why. Everyone else simply assumed that children was a painful topic for her and none of them had ever ventured to talk about it. Ron flew from his chair to help her but was stopped by her violent reactions to his touch.

'I hate you,' she seethed. 'Get out. Leave! Go! Get out of my house, _now_!'

His lips trembled and tears flooded down his face, he was shaking his head but ultimately complied to her demands. She knew she'd promised herself that she wouldn't grovel but the one question still presented itself to the forefront of her mind. Struggling to stand up, she gripped the table for support and stopped Ron before he could leave with the simple word. Why? He stopped in his tracks and slumped even further into himself, turning towards her, she could see the look of pained anguish on his face.

'I love you, Hermione,' he started, choking back a sob and bringing the back of his hands to wipe his runny nose. 'But...I wasn't in love with you. My heart belonged to Lavender but everyone kept pushing me towards you and I was...constantly bombarded with people telling me that you and I were meant to be but you are my sister. I couldn't. I couldn't. I knew that I just couldn't,' Ron sucked in a deep breath and hiccupped. He began pacing up and down her kitchen, his hands moving over his greasy hair, tugging and pulling at it. 'But then, then Lavender and I found out that she...umm...she couldn't have children and...'

Hermione gaped and the weight she'd felt lifted was returned. 'No,' she whispered, physically drawing away from Ron as another wave of tears came. 'No.' He didn't kill her child because he flew into a jealous fit. 'No. _Please._ Tell me it isn't true.'

Ron nodded his head, unable to look her in the face. 'I gave into mum's demands and married you. I thought you...I thought that. I don't know why, Hermione. I've racked my brains over and over again, all of the fifteen years in Azkaban and then all of the six weeks since I've been granted parole but I try and try and...I can't come up with any reason. I was so muddled that day. I was losing the love of my life and marrying my best friend who I loved only platonically. Then Harry came in and gave me a speech about how we'd live happy and have little red-headed children with your brains and my Quidditch skills and I...I started to picture it. I wanted it. I did but then you were suddenly already pregnant and with a Malfoy's child no less and I just...I just,' Ron crumpled to floor. 'All I know Hermione is I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. I never wanted this for you. I never wished this on you. You know I wouldn't. I'm sorry.'

When Hermione received Ron's letter, she didn't know what to think or do. She wasn't even sure that she would allow him to sully her home with his presence but she couldn't sleep for nights on end. Draco didn't think anything was wrong, often without pattern Hermione would be unable to close her eyes without seeing her unborn child crawling forth from his grave and blaming her for his death. After all, she had been his mother. Wasn't it her job to save and protect him from the scum of society? Expect the man who killed him and been her friend, the man she was going to marry and someone that she had once trusted with her life. The man who fought alongside her to get rid of the greatest evil the wizarding world had ever seen.

'Sorry would not bring back my child. Sorry won't give you back your wasted years. Sorry won't bring back the trust I had in you Ron,' Hermione said, somberly. 'Do you know I constantly have to check for my wand in your presence? I don't feel safe. I know you, Ron, you're my best friend but all I can see you as is a murderer. I accept your apology, Ron but only because I'm tired. I'm tired of hating you. I'm tired of constantly envisioning taking my revenge on you. All I want is peace.'

Ron tried to step forward, holding his arms out but Hermione shook her head and stepped back.

'I have accepted your apology. You no longer have business here. Get out,' she said. 'And never come back. I never want to see you again.'

His shoulders slump but he complied, slowly shuffling his way out of her kitchen and into the garden and to the spot where he had apparated onto. Hermione watched him through the window, tears springing to her eyes as she watched his grey clad body heaved itself to turn around and then managed to send a painful grimace trying to be a cheerful smile her way. How could she not feel for him? He was the boy she had spent most of her childhood with. No, she thought, that boy was gone. In his place was a man she barely knew and she would have no sympathy for that man. And yet, as she watched him apparated, Hermione was struck with how much times have changed. Adulthood had snuck in and stolen their innocence long ago but today, Hermione truly knew that the Golden Trio was over.

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_**I know that was very short but I wanted it to be something sweet and short. I also know that Ron hasn't really had his circumstance changed as he still doesn't get the happy ending and yes that's true but I only hope that I've given a more human touch to Ron (review and tell me what you think) because it irks me in fanfiction when people take a character, turn them 'evil' and then don't quite explain how or why. Of course I was mortified when I discovered that I'd done just that! **_

_**I was originally going to delete Forbidden Love but my friend convinced me otherwise and this was the next best option =)**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter **_


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